Unlikely
by AnnaFinley
Summary: Hermione is curious...and she'll find out soon enough that curiosity killed the cat..
1. Chapter 1

Snape could feel someone watching him. He whipped around and drew his wand, but the hallway seemed empty.

"I know you are following me, and I will find you out, so be warned," he said quietly.

Hermione held her breath and waited under Harry's invisibility cloak. Surely Snape couldn't detect her, no matter what he threatened. Then he spoke again.

"Potter, if you are under that cloak of yours, I will give you detention every week for the rest of the year if you do not reveal yourself. Believe me, I will find a reason. If you confess now, it'll only be for the rest of the semester."

Hermione gaped at him. She was cornered. She couldn't let Harry get detentions for her stupidity. She walked toward Snape, who stood in the middle of the hall, waiting, and tore off the invisibility cloak. If Snape was shocked, he didn't show it. He merely glared at her and said, "So now Potter sends his friends to do his spying for him. I see. And he has the audacity to call _me _a coward!"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I didn't follow you for Harry. I stole his cloak…for tonight," Hermione finished quickly. She was terrified of the question Snape was bound to ask.

"And why on Earth would you do that, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, growing impatient.

"Tha- that's my business, sir," Hermione said meekly.

"Really? Well, detentions every Saturday for the rest of the semester, then. Just as I said. And _don't _try to follow me again."

He stalked off and left her standing there, embarrassed and utterly disappointed in herself. How could she have been so ignorant? She was, after all, the cleverest witch in her year, at least according to most… So what possessed her to steal Harry's cloak and follow Snape, knowing that he was an exceptional wizard and was bound to find her out sooner or later?

The questions remained on Hermione's mind as she tried to get to sleep. How could she have told Snape the reason she followed him when she didn't even know herself? She was just…curious. After 6 years of thinking he was an evil bastard, everyone had learned the truth. Of course, only Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew the whole story. Snape had loved Lily for all his life, and he had killed Dumbledore out of respect for the dying man's wishes.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the rest of the wizarding world was told that Snape was loyal to the Order, that Harry Potter trusted him just as Dumbledore had. No one questioned the "Chosen One", not after Voldemort's demise.

* * *

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had arrived back at Hogwarts to finish their seventh year, Hermione noticed that Snape had not changed much since the final battle. Still long-haired and pale, he sat at the staff table looking sour, evidently dreading the start of another school year. No one had expected him to return to Hogwarts, not after all that had happened. Yet there he was, sitting right beside McGonagall in her Headmistress's chair.

"I bet he's not happy about being replaced by McGonagall," whispered Ron to Harry and Hermione as the beginning-of-year feast had begun, "I mean, he did all that for Dumbledore, spied for the Order and everything, and still Dumbledore passed the position to her instead."

"Are you actually feeling sorry for Snape?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Of course not! But if he was a hateful bastard before, wait till you're in Potions class with him now, Hermione!"

"How do you figure?" said Hermione, "It's over now. He doesn't have to be a double agent anymore. He has avenged Lily's death, hasn't he?" She lowered her voice, "Maybe he'll be nicer, maybe he didn't want to be Headmaster."

Harry and Ron gaped at her. They even asked her if she was feeling ill. And indeed, the following morning, as Hermione took her seat in Snape's classroom, there was an assignment on the blackboard for a five page essay to write for their next class. Snape swept the room with his eyes, pausing for the smallest fraction of a second to look at Hermione. She averted her eyes quickly and looked around the room as well. She noticed the class was tiny, only ten people including herself.

"You," Snape said, addressing the class, "are the select few that have passed on to seventh year Potions. I expect all of you to work the hardest you've ever worked and I will accept nothing short of excellence from any of you, is that understood?"

There was a murmuring of "yes," and Snape turned to face the board. He scribbled something in his small handwriting and said, "Begin."

Hermione arrived in Snape's dungeon at seven o' clock on the Saturday following her incredibly embarrassing spy mission. Snape looked up at her from the desk.

"Miss Granger," he said, "today you will be grading all my first, second, third, and fourth year papers for me." He handed her an overstuffed folder. He bent his head and immersed himself in an ancient-looking bookwhile Hermione gaped at him.

"Professor, you wish _me _to grade papers? By myself?"

"Is that going to be too difficult for you?" Snape asked smoothly.

"N-no, I just never thought you'd allow me to do such… important work."

"Since I find myself once again inconvenienced with issues outside of school that must be dealt with, I have no choice but to delegate my homework grading to some of my students," said Snape, glancing up at Hermione for a split second. "Anything else?"

Hermione walked away to the desk holding the papers awkwardly in her arm.

Never in her entire time at Hogwarts had Snape ever acknowledged that Hermione was an exceptionally talented witch, as many of the other professors had done. This, Hermione thought, had to be the highest praise of all. He trusted her intellect enough to help him grade student's homework? Since when did Snape rely on anyone else's help?

Hermione did her best to grade fairly, trying not to be too kind to the student's whose work wasn't quite satisfactory, hoping Snape wouldn't shout at her for giving too-high marks. The detentions passed quickly. Hermione found herself enjoying the work. She even scribbled cramped comments here and there, trying to help the younger students achieve better marks. Snape did this, too, but Hermione and the rest of the seventh years had always assumed it was because Snape was spiteful and fed off of belittling everyone in his path.

Late one December evening, just before Christmas break, Hermione was turning in a thick stack of papers to Snape when he motioned for her to sit down.

"Miss Granger, I need you to stay over the holidays."

Hermione looked as though she'd been Confunded. "W-what?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, sir, why do you need me to remain at Hogwarts? Aren't you leaving as well?"

"No, I'm staying here, and I need you to do some work for me."  
Hermione was furious. She couldn't believe what this utter _bastard _was asking her to do. She had been looking forward to ten days at the Burrow ever since the start of term and now she had to give it up just because Snape needed _help _to do Merlin-knows-what.

"I can't, Professor. I won't stay for the holidays, Professor McGonagall will never stand for it!"

Snape's eyes were burning as if in conflict with himself. He stood up, clutching the edges of the desk, seemingly on the verge of a horrible utterance not of his own accord.

"_Please,_" he said, not looking at Hermione, "I need your help with something, Hermione." Since when did he call her Hermione? Since when did Snape ever ask for help? Directly?

"With what?" She managed.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you until you agree to stay."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She wanted a break from school so badly, and yet Snape's request was so intriguing, she was too curious for her own good.

"Is it something to do with the Order?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll stay."

"And I would appreciate it if you kept this strictly between us."

_Us. _Why did that word send a shiver down Hermione's spine?

"Of course, Professor," she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione entered the Great Hall the following Saturday to find it almost completely deserted. Out of all the teachers, only Hagrid had remained at Hogwarts, but he ate his meals with Madame Maxime, his wife. Hermione sat by herself at the Gryffindor table, nibbling on toast and reading the _Prophet. _No sooner had she finished breakfast, Snape sat down next to her on the bench, looking slightly less pale than he did in the dungeons. Hermione observed him with admiration. _When did he become so... so... good-looking? _His hooked nose gave his face a harsher appearance from a distance, but up close, Hermione could see his eyes were not black as she had thought, but a very dark shade of midnight blue. How could she have missed that in six years of being his student?

He didn't smile, that would be asking too much, but he seemed less terse as he spoke to Hermione, who had stopped staring and was now stuffing the _Prophet _back into her school bag.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, referring to the newspaper.

"Not really. They're losing interest in the whole Vol- I mean, the final battle."

"You can say his name, Hermione. It's not like it's going to bring him back," Snape said with a smirk.

"Right," Hermione said, giving a self-deprecating laugh. "Are we starting today?"

"Yes, that is why I've come to collect you," said Snape, standing. "Also," he looked once again at war with himself, "I wanted to let you know you could have your meals with me, in my office, rather than coming to the Great Hall by yourself."

Hermione blinked at him. Surely he wasn't inviting her to _socialize _with him? That was absurd! Of all people to be sharing afternoon tea with, Snape had always been on the bottom of Hermione's list. That is, until she had developed an inexplicable curiosity about her mysterious potions teacher.

"Alright," Hermione said, "I guess it would give us more time to work." She didn't want to seem _eager, _now did she?

They arrived once again in the dungeons, which were now beginning to feel more like home to Hermione than Gryffindor tower. She couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"Sir, what are we going to do?"

"We're going to be doing research on curses," he said, "particularly those which are irreversible."

Hermione's jaw dropped in comprehension. "You mean like the cursed ring Dumbledore put on? Curses that can't be broken?"

Snape nodded. "I have been trying to develop a cure, a potion that will break these types of curses."

'But sir, surely someone older and more experienced than I would be better equipped to assist"-

"You are all the help I need. I trust your intellect, Hermione, and your discretion."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink. She fiddled with her hair for a moment, overcome by a girlish insecurity she never knew she had. "You can trust me, Professor."

"Good. Now, the first thing we must do is collect all the books from the library that might be of any use. Luckily, I've already acquired most of them." He glanced at his wand for a split second before continuing. Obviously, Snape hadn't used a library card to get the books. "I need you to double check, make sure I didn't miss anything that could be important. Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

"No problem," Hermione said, preparing to leave. Snape caught her wrist gently. Startled, she looked down at it and he let go almost as fearfully.

"There is just one more thing," he said, looking around the desk for something. Hermione's wrist tingled. Not from pain. It was his touch. His hand had been surprisingly warm. Hermione had always expected his marble skin to be ice cold, like a vampire's. She felt a strange yearning in her stomach, like something inside her was pulling her closer to the man opposite the desk. Snape's blue-black eyes met hers, and for an instant she felt a jolt of fear. Snape was a prodigious _Legilimens. _Could he read her thoughts without casting a spell?

"Ms. Granger?" he asked, giving the paper in his hand a slight wave. Hermione took it, realizing he had been waiting for her to do so.

"A list of the books you already have?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I hope you find something useful. Remember, this is incredibly dark magic. Chances are, you'll find the majority of what we need in the Restricted Section."

Hermione noticed a smaller paper attached to the list. A note from Snape to Madame Pince, the librarian.

They worked for hours on end. Hermione didn't know which one of them was more hungry for the answer. Snape because he owed it to Dumbledore, or Hermione because she needed Snape to be proud of her. On Christmas morning, as she skimmed through _Medicinal Properties of Creatures within the Magical Realm, _Hermione felt her mind drifting to a place that had nothing to do with curse-breaking. She kept glancing over at Snape behind his desk, hunched over, reading a document that seemed to be printed in miniscule letters. He had to use a magnifying glass. _He has such great shoulders, so broad and...strong, _Hermione blinked and tried to read. _Focus, you silly little girl, focus on your work. It's the only thing that has a chance in Hell of working out! _

"Fuck!" Snape said loudly. Hermione burst out laughing. "Forgive my language, Hermione. It's just that I've realized we've been going in the completely wrong direction."

"I don't follow, sir," Hermione said, still smiling.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You, sir."

"Is there something about my being mistaken that amuses you, Miss Granger?" He looked cross.

"No, Professor, I was just smiling because that was the first time I've ever heard you swear." She grinned even wider and looked down at her book.

"Oh," said Snape thickly, "I see. Yes, well, I shan't let it happen again. That was very rude."

"No! Please, swear all you want. It becomes you," Hermione replied bravely. She didn't know what made her say it.


End file.
